Depressed by seeing a not-that-great movie that everyone assured me was a Great Movie, a Pow! Wowie Zowie! Movie, I avenge myself by re-reading Charles Yu’s short story “Third Class Superhero.”
The story begins as follows:
“Got a letter today and guess what: still not a superhero.
‘Dear Applicant,’ [not a good sign] ‘the number of qualified candidates this year blah blah far exceeded the number of available blah.’
“I scan the list of people who did make it. A lot of them graduated with me. It’s the usual assortment of the strong and beautiful. About half are fireball shooters. A few are ice makers. Half a dozen telepath/empaths. A couple of brutes, a shape-shifter, a few big brains….”
I begin to feel better.